


A Broken Soldier

by 221BluePoliceBox



Category: Dr. John Watson - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock/John - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BluePoliceBox/pseuds/221BluePoliceBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a dream in which Sherlock comes back to him but wakes up to realize that Sherlock is dead or "dead"... But was it all really a dream?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broken Soldier

It was nearly one in the afternoon when John finally woke up. Sitting up on the sofa, John groggily looked around the room, wondering if the past 9 months of hell had just been an unending nightmare in which Sherlock confessed to John that he was a fraud before he fell to his death off of St. Bart's Hospital. Looking around the room, John saw the newspapers he'd hung on the wall. Honestly he didn't know why he'd done it- maybe it was to remind him of the truth; maybe there was a clue among the papers. If there was one, John couldn't see it. If there was one person in the world who could figure out a pattern of some sort it would be his supposedly deceased friend. That day, one in particular stood out to John more than the rest: the headline read "Fraud Commits Suicide," in bold, black letters. Under the headline was the first picture of Sherlock's face the press had ever gotten of him- him in his dear stalker. Memories of that horrible day came back to him, and the cold realization hit once again: Sherlock was gone. The events of last night came back to him slowly. He remembered sitting on the sofa, starring at the door, waiting for Sherlock to walk in and say "It's okay John, I'm alive." John was heartbroken. Day after day he tortured himself by looking at the papers but he knew he had to keep them there so he would remember that Sherlock was really gone. Even after months of people telling him that Sherlock was dead, John still couldn't believe it. After Sherlock's funeral, he'd gone up to Molly and hysterically demanded to know where Sherlock was. Why he wasn't revealing himself to John. John was his friend wan't he? After all the cases they'd been through? All the near death experiences Sherlock had put them through which had made them even closer? Molly had remained silent, not looking John in the eyes. She couldn't say anything to John that would help. With all the time John had to sulk, these questions had swum in his head, making him sink farther and farther into a pit of dismay.  
Coming back to reality, John realized that he must have fallen asleep at one point during the night. His eyes felt heavy and refused to stay open so he just sat on the sofa and pondered what the dream that he'd had the night before meant. He remembered it faintly but could remember only one moment of it quite sharply. In the dream, John was asleep on the sofa, when there were footsteps outside the door, and after a moments pause, the door opened and Sherlock walked in. John knew it was Sherlock because, well, he just knew. Sherlock saw John sleeping on the couch and grabbed a blanket from the other chair and draped it over him. Then he crouched, placed a cup of freshly brewed hot tea on the table in front of John, and whispered into his ear, "I'm alive John. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."  
As Sherlock crouched beside him, John began to feel more at ease and felt the stress in his body melt away. It was then that John had woken up, startled and confused. Upon looking expectantly around again, he fell into another depressed state after realizing that Sherlock's visit had only been a dream. Dreams couldn't make Sherlock come back to John. After sitting and staring at the door for what felt like an eternity, John's stomach growled a wake up call to which he finally realized he had to start moving or else he'd sit there and mope all day. He got up and moved dazedly into the kitchen, not even noticing the cup of steaming tea that sat on the table.


End file.
